The Bitter Life
by BardofLoveStories
Summary: Edward left in New Moon and didn’t come back. Tragedy strikes, and Sam and Bella come together to do the impossible, live on.


**The Bitter ****Life**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or its characters!**_

_**Edward left in New Moon and didn't come back. Tragedy strikes, and Sam and Bella come together to do the impossible, live on.**_

_**Not an anti-Edward story. Not necessarily a Sam and Bella story either, but kinda. Just read!**_

I remember her, lying broken on the forest floor. Covered in dirt, moss and leaves, she laid curled up in a ball. She must have been freezing, but she showed no sign she felt the cold. She showed no sign of anything. If it wasn't for her scent I might not of even found her. She was very far out in the forest, far off of any path. I wondered how she got there. She must have been trying to follow him. Every now and then she whispered 'he's gone' to herself in a hoarse whisper.

When I picked her up she did not react, and stayed in her zombie-like trance, hands grasping for something that was not there. I jogged swiftly through the heavy-scented forest to Chief Swan's house, were the rest of the rescue party had gathered in a lull in the search, deciding whether to stop and start again in the morning. The minute I appeared with in their view the talking stopped and Charlie rushed forward, obviously happy but alarmed. I assured him she was okay, but in shock. As I passed her from my arm to Charlie's she finally started to notice her surroundings. For a brief moment she looked straight into my eyes and I saw it. The true look of heart break. It damn near broke my heart as I comprehended the depression, pain, and suffering she was going through. A look of a person who had lost all hope.

That is the same look I saw in my eyes now as I looked in the mirror to see my haggard expression. This was the first time I had done so since the accident. I looked like shit. I had a shabby beard growing in and dark bags underneath my eyes. My hair had grown to an awkward length, not my normal cropped style but not quite anything else. It was a tangled dark mess that matched my black clothes, which were wrinkled and button on wrong, leaving an extra button on top and a free button hole on bottom.

I felt like crap, as if a vampire had beaten me almost half to death twice, leaving me just enough energy to suffer through the pain. It should have been me. Emily should never have been in that car. Why couldn't I just have insisted I go and pick up the package that had been left at the post office? I just had to give in so easily. But how could I not, when she kissed me that way and giggled as she slid past me, leaving me in bliss. How was I supposed to know that some fucker would drink himself silly and get behind the wheel and drive at 70-fucking-miles and hour on a 30 mph road? I should have known. Something in me should have kicked in and sensed the danger she was in, but nothing did. So I just waited at home until I got a call from the police, who had managed to find Emily's wallet and identity in the wreckage and had a phone book or whatever close at hand.

The next few days were a blur, but came to a crashing stop at Emily's funeral, just early today. I was in shock, in my own zombie like state. No one could comprehend just how I was feeling, because no living person has ever lost an imprint. Even if I had phased and shared the pain with my pack through our mental link they'd only have a sample of what was tearing me apart, but I hadn't phased. I hadn't really done anything. I could tell everyone had been affected, too. Jared seemed to visit me the most talking about what was happening with the pack, but I didn't hear a word he was saying. At the funeral he was hugging Kim tightly too himself, surrounded by the pack. I sat alone on a chair near the front. No one approached me, not even Emily's family. I could see them huddle together, like everyone else, watching me, not quite sure what I would do. Eventually I stood up and approached Emily's coffin, and placed a hand on in, and stared at it. Several minutes passed, or hours, or days, then I felt a surge of white hot tears and ran.

I ended up at my house and came to where I am now, looking at my reflection in the mirror. I know I need help. I need someone to understand the pain. I need someone to help me get past before I choose what feels like the more friendly way to escape it all, a hand gun I had given Emily to use incase she needed protection and I wasn't there. I need the only other person I know of who ever felt this way. I need Bella Black.

_**So here goes my first story. I hope you will like it! Comment please!**_


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